Recreational Volleyball Is Dangerous
by Dragon'sHost
Summary: The most dangerous position in recreational volleyball, Rogue is soon to find out, is when you're not actually playing at all.
1. Chapter 1

**And yup. Another one. But this one actually stands a chance of being updated weekly, as it's based on my real-life volleyball misadventures. Since it is based on my team (which is named "We Try Hard" for a ****_reaso_****_n_), and I have weekly games... I will have new material for this every week. You'll probably be getting two chapters this week, though. Gotta include what happened during my last match, after all!**

**Volleyball is a lot of fun, and I've been playing it forever. Since elementary school, which makes it... about fourteen years now. And despite the fact that I only play it recreational, the league and players are all very serious about having fun. It can get surprisingly dangerous, too. Especially for the sideliners. Like Rogue will be. Plus the comedic potential is HIGH.**

**Thanks go to Eien ni Touko, for insisting I write this odd little comedy, and to everyone else who has listened to me rant about what happened _this week _at volleyball.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail.**

* * *

"No, Sting."

A whine escaped the blond man's throat as he pleaded with his best friend of over a decade. "Please, Rogue? Do it for me? For our friendship? We're bros, aren't we?"

Glaring, the red-eyed brunet hissed, "We are in no way related and I am not playing on your team, Sting. I am just not interested in volleyball. How many times do I have to say it for it to percolate into your brain?!"

"But that's not what I'm asking this time!" With an enthusiastic wave of his arms, Sting continued, "We're cool on the team members. Only three guys are allowed max on the court anyway, to make it fair. I have all the guys I need, with me, Orga, Rufus, and Dobengal playing pickup. Natsu said one of his female players might be willing to play with us for our main games, and Millianna said she could sub for when we have to play against Natsu's team, or if they're playing on the other court."

"So then what _are _you asking of me?"

"We just need someone to be the referee and scorekeeper!" Sting explained.

This only seemed to annoy the other man. "Why would I ag- when I don't even like volleyball - agree to come to all the games, only to not play?"

Sting groaned in frustration. "Because you'd be doing me a huge favor and I'd owe you? We've been having a lot of trouble because the teams can't agree on carries and stuff. And for some reason, _none of us can count to save our lives_."

Rogue's eyes softened slightly, though wariness still clouded them. "You're twenty-two, Sting. What do you mean you can't count?"

He gave his longtime friend a helpless gesture. "I dunno man. Between my team and the other teams, there's over fifty or sixty years of higher education on those courts but none of us can count accurately. Seriously, I don't get it. We even have accounting majors - you'd think at least _they'd_ be able to but _nooooo_... Anyway, we really need the help."

Crossing his arms, Rogue, inquired, "Exactly why do you play this - and I use the term lightly - sport, again? Honestly, I would have had you pegged for basketball or something similar. Something with a higher difficulty rating."

With a raised eyebrow, Sting replied frankly, "_Beach_ volleyball. Obviously."

He really should have seen that one coming. Sighing, Rogue shook his head at his roommate.

"Hey!" Sting protested. "It's not what you think!" After a moment's pause, while he ran through what he'd just stated, Sting then amended, "Okay, so maybe partially for the reason you're thinking of. But have you ever tried to play volleyball on freaking sand before? It's hard. Really, really hard. You get no purchase when you move, and no lift when you jump and half the time your feet get scalded. Also, sand in uncomfortable places. I believe that says it all."

"Sting, I don't even know the rules of volleyball."

"I'll give you a crash course. C'mon! Help me out, here!" Sting's mouth twisted into a smirk, his eyes glinting knowingly. "There's a lot more girls than guys playing." Seeing that he hadn't yet convinced Rogue, he added, "Cute ones. In shorts. Tight shorts. Yoga pants. And close fitting tank tops and sports bras."

With a roll of his eyes, Rogue dropped his arms and turned to walk away. "I'm not a pervert like you, Sting. Find someone else."

"Don't do this to me, man! Minerva is going to _kill me _if I don't get a scorekeeper today! The game starts in like, twenty minutes and there's no time to find anyone else!"

Rogue paused, and glanced at Sting over his shoulder. "_Minerva_ is on your team? As in _Minerva Orlando_? What were you thinking, recruiting that psycho?"

Sting shrugged. "She's athletic, likes volleyball, and we needed more girls. Plus, she's got a wicked serve, to boot."

Running a hand through his hair, Rogue let out another long suffering sigh. "Fine. Just for tonight. And you'll owe me. Big time, Sting. I mean it." He pivoted, and began to walk in the direction of the campus gym. "You had better give me that crash course quick."

Swift steps sounded behind the brunet as the blond caught up. "Awesome! Thanks! Okay, you don't need to know the rules too much for tonight - we can police ourselves for the most part this time. Mostly just keep score; that's what we always argue on. Now, we're up against Cobra's team and they have a tendency to add on points... it's rally scoring by the way."

What was rally scoring?

"Also, there's three matches to a game. Or was it three games to a match?" Sting looked up at the sky as if it would provide answers.

It didn't.

With a shake of his head, Sting switched topics. "So... ceiling balls. This is the only league I've ever encountered where it's a dead ball if it hits the ceiling, or one of the pipes that hang down. Probably because whenever the ball does touch the ceiling, the insulation stuff floats down and you don't want that shit in your lungs..."

Rogue was already regretting this.

* * *

**Let me know what you guys think! By the way - there will be very few, if any, embellishments. This is pretty much all shit that has happened in real life. Also, the gym details are all completely accurate and true to the gym I play volleyball in. Really.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Finally, Chapter 2! I'm glad to see so many readers play volleyball! And the ones who don't - never fear. I shall endeavor to explain terms as Rogue learns them. Now have fun!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail.**

* * *

Rogue soon discovered several very important things about volleyball from Sting in the course of five minutes.

The first of which being that _Sting_ didn't seem to fully understand the rules. Or even the definitions of half the terms, such as 'attack line.'

"Sting," Rogue interrupted his friend, thoroughly confused by this talk of lines. "Can we just start at the beginning, and leave out all the things I don't actually need to know for tonight?"

The blond man groaned at his roommate's incomprehension. He was making things perfectly obvious, but here Rogue was being his usual obtuse self. "Fine, fine! Okay, we play rally scoring. You following me so far?"

"No," was the emphatic response. "You have not yet explained what that is!"

Sting seemed offended. "It's rally scoring!" He waved his arms around, as if that would materialize a definition for the befuddled brunet.

"What. Is it," Rogue gritted out between his clenched teeth. Sometimes talking to Sting was akin to trying to hold an intellectual discussion with a metal post. Only, the metal post was more likely to provide clear, concise answers.

Fumbling internally for an explanation, Sting's face twisted with the effort it took. "It's... well, a point is scored on every serve. Unless it's a redo."

Rogue threw his arms up in exasperation. "Couldn't you have just said that in the first place?!"

"I thought it was self-apparent!"

"It's not!"

By that point, however, the pair had already reached the gym.

"Oh, wait," Sting said, grabbing Rogue's arm. "I wasn't paying attention to where we were going."

Apparently, the gym in which Rogue had assumed the sport would be conducted, was not in fact the correct one.

"Shit!" the blond swore, dragging his reluctant best friend along. "If we're late, there's penalties!"

That also would have been nice to know beforehand, in Rogue's opinion. "Penalties?"

Sting mumbled something under his breath that Rogue didn't quite catch, but he thought he heard the words, "Cobra, arrogant bastard, stickler, and forfeit." From which Rogue could extrapolate, having met Cobra on a few occasions due to similar course schedules (unpleasant encounters all - as the majority of encounters with the man tended to go on a humanity-wide basis). Honestly, Rogue would never have pegged the half-feral individual he was familiar with as a fan of volleyball.

Pausing outside the correct gym this time, Rogue eyed the decaying building with trepidation. "This is where you play?"

With a shrug, Sting climbed the crumbling gray steps. "I know. It looks like a crap hole, but it's functional. Wait until we get inside."

Hopeful, Rogue followed him. "Is it better?"

"Worse."

Indeed, Sting had not been lying to Rogue.

The immediate thing Rogue noticed was that there were pipes. Lots, and lots of exposed pipes. Hanging from the ceiling. And off in a corner, what appeared to be a furnace vent. The ceiling itself seemed to be made of some sort of wavy-looking, beige substance. Disturbingly the same shade as the pipes. Which he felt the need to point out to Sting.

"Sting. What is that?"

Gaze following Rogue's pointed finger, Sting scratched his head. "The ceiling?"

"No, that stuff."

"Pipes?"

"Sting. I know what a ceiling and pipes are. The brownish stuff the ceiling is made of. What is it?"

Comprehension dawned. "Oh. It's insulation. It comes off really easily, too, when the ball hits it. So be careful not to inhale it - that shit will mess up your lungs."

This frightened Rogue. Both the nature of what Sting had explained to him, along with the completely blase tone Sting had done it in.

Large windows ran alongside two of the four walls, far too high up to reach. They were covered in what appeared to be iron mesh. Rogue only knew this though because the blinds on the windows were more or less defunct. Slats were broken on all of the blinds, one window was missing them entirely, and on the final one the blinds were only half attached still - hanging on for dear life and swaying precariously. Rogue couldn't help but fear that they would smash someone's skull in if and when they lost their war with gravity. Which looked to be sooner rather than later.

Shouts erupting from a short distance away caught Rogue's attention next. Turning his gaze towards the commotion, he saw a very familiar, one-eyed redhead and an unknown blonde woman staring each other down with their arms crossed and foreheads pressed together. They also appeared to be snarling at each other.

"Can you even play a game with more than three rules to remember, you ditzy blonde?"

"Can you even see the ball, Cyclops?"

"Are you even able to reach the top of the net if you jump, shortstack?"

"Are you even able aim the ball, because I've seen the state of your bathroom."

"Don't let those watermelons in your shirt slow you down!"

"Don't get hit in the face with the ball and lose your other eye!"

Rogue stared at the pair in dumbstruck horror, while next to him, Sting laughed cheerfully. "Awesome! Natsu lent us Blondie!"

Turning towards his friend, Rogue inquired, "Shouldn't someone... stop them?"

"Don't let the vitriol fool you!" Sting chuckled. "They actually get along great. In fact, if I remember right they've been friends for ages. Something has definitely been knocked askew in Blondie's brain, but she seems to enjoy taunting him. Blondie's also on Cobra's very short list of people he likes. Cobra might go easy on us this time."

"Go easy on...?"

Sting adopted an expression of surprise. "Oh. Did I not tell you? There's a competitive league too - Crime Sorciere is one of the teams in it. But the league organizers sometimes pit the upper league and the lower league teams against each other, since there's an odd number of teams registered for both. Normally when we go up against the higher league teams like Crime Sorciere, we get _creamed _and they don't even break a sweat. Maybe we'll actually score some points tonight, though."

"Good for you but they still look like they're about to come to blows," Rogue pointed out.

Again, Sting seemed unconcerned. "Worst I've ever seen from them is some minor hair and face pulling. Like teenage girls." Then Sting froze. "Uh oh. I forgot." He slowly turned to Rogue, sweat pouring down his face. "I forgot that Minerva despises Blondie."

All Rogue could do was stare at his friend. "Shouldn't you have known this was going to be a possibility?"

"I didn't think about it," Sting admitted.

"Why does Minerva hate... _her_, anyway?" No one had actually told him the blonde woman's name yet. Somehow, he doubted it was Blondie.

Another helpless shrug was his answer. "I dunno, man. In the last tournament, Minerva just went all crazy on her. Spiked every ball straight at her as hard as she could. Hit her in the face more than once. Blondie got a bloody nose and some really nasty bruises. Wasn't pretty."

Rogue glanced at the woman arguing with Cobra. The lighting in the gymnasium was poor and cast odd shadows, but beneath those Rogue could see yellowing bruises crisscrossing her body. He was instantly appalled. Whipping back to Sting, he glared at his friend. "Minerva did that to someone, and you still invited her back to the team." His words were flat and cold.

Irritation passed over Sting's face. "Rogue, it technically wasn't against the rules. It was poor sportsmanship, to be certain. But not against the rules. I can't ban a player that hasn't done anything expressly wrong. Besides, it would be hypocritical in the extreme to punish Minerva for aggressively targeting Blondie, when Cobra does the exact same thing and no one cares. Granted, he doesn't aim for her face."

"He what?!"

"Calm down, Rogue. Like I said before - Blondie and Snake-Face have a really antagonistic friendship where they basically try to smear each other into the ground - and not just figuratively. But I've seen them pick each other back up again only to go right back to it. Freaking weird." Sting scratched his head

Something occurred to Rogue. "Wait, you said with her on your team, he would take it easy on you."

Nodding, Sting clarified, "I meant easy on the men. Blondie's good at defending against spikes - much better than I am to be honest."

With a sigh, Rogue crossed his arms. "So what are you going to do about her and Minerva, then?"

"You seem... awfully concerned about someone you technically haven't met yet," Sting observed. Before Rogue could say anything in protest, Sting continued, "I don't how she'll react to seeing Minerva, but Blondie would have agreed to play with us knowing they'd be on the same team. So I guess it will be alright." He winced. "On Blondie's side of things, at any rate. It's Minerva's reaction I'm concerned about."

"Pleased to know that you think me incapable of self-control," came a droll voice behind them. "Also, you're late, _Team Captain_. I had to fetch the pole myself. _Jellal_ is being a good little Captain and bringing the other."

Panic flashed across Sting's countenance. "Minerva!" he greeted, spinning to see the imposing woman. "Sorry about that! ...Um... how was your day?"

The austere woman coldly stared at him for a moment. Deciding his question not worth the trouble of answering, she turned her malevolent stare on Rogue. "So you did bring someone to keep score." She paused, appraising him. "Rogue Cheney, right?" Her lips pursed, she shook her head. "I would shake your hand, but I'm busy at the moment."

"Nice to meet you." Rogue didn't feel slighted in the least at her reception. She was, indeed, rather busy holding a very solid-looking metal pole. It had to be over fifteen feet long, and was thicker around than Rogue's arm. Attached to one side was a steel winch.

"Excuse me," she muttered, turning on her heel.

Rogue then had what was to be his very first brush with death for the evening, as she accidentally (he hoped) swung the pole around with her. Throwing himself to the ground, he only just barely avoided the bludgeon's path. Sting shared a look of mild terror with him on the floor, having also narrowly escaped his doom. "I don't know why she's complaining," the blond man muttered, as he rose to his feet and dusted himself off. "Orga and Rufus aren't even here yet! And I don't see Yukino, either, come to think of it..."

With a roll of his eyes, Rogue stood as well. "I thought you said you were playing against Cobra's team, not Jellal's," he commented.

"Same team, actually. Cobra's not the Team Captain; Jellal is. Jellal just lets him and Meredy do whatever they please so we just call it their team." Sting rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I'd better grab the net. Be back in a second."

Then Sting disappeared into an open doorway next to them - one Rogue had failed to previously notice. Although... he wasn't entirely certain how that had occurred.

Because it wasn't so much a doorway as a portal of darkness set in the wall.

Peering into it, Rogue could dimly make out steps descending into the inky abyss. "Sting?" he called.

He a _whump_, and muffled cursing. "Where's that blasted light?" Sting growled nearby. "Ah. Found it."

A light flicked on below, coming from a room that exited out onto a landing in the middle of the stairs. With the meager illumination, Rogue could make out that the steps did not descend far at all, but they did empty out into a narrow corridor. Several wooden, padlocked doors lined the hallway, which after less than ten feet made an abrupt right turn to who knows where.

Darkness engulfed the space again as Sting turned off the light and emerged with a large, folded net.

As Sting shut the entrance-way behind him, Rogue felt the need to inform Sting, "That is quite possibly the creepiest place I have ever seen."

An odd expression came upon Sting's face. Clapping a hand on Rogue's shoulder, he said, "Trust me. This? This has nothing on the bathrooms."

Rogue did not like the sound of that.

A high pitched squeal then caught the pair's attention. Turning to see the source, both men were shocked to see the blonde woman peel herself away from Cobra and bodily hurl herself at Minerva.

"Minerva!" she shouted happily.

Swiftly maneuvering the pole so she could hold it with one hand, Minerva smiled and returned the enthusiastic hug she was receiving. "Hello, Lucy."

Sting and Rogue stared in flabbergasted amazement as the two women chattered at each other. Cobra rolled his eye and swiped the pole from Minerva's clutches.

"I was not expecting that," Sting stated with grave finality. "I don't think I'll ever really understand women."

For once, Rogue agreed with Sting wholeheartedly.

* * *

**Whew! Finally finished. The match begins in the next chapter! Now I'm off to bed, so I get plenty of sleep before my own volleyball match tomorrow...**


	3. Chapter 3

**It's been a while but I am back with more volleyball! The game still hasn't started, but that does not mean that shit is not going down already.**

**Blame Eien ni Touko and thefourteenthdarkone for Mard. They've gotten me to fall in love with him.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail. Or Geoff - he belongs to Eddie Izzard.**

* * *

While Cobra hauled away the pole, Minerva and the blonde - Lucy, Minerva called her? - parted, grinning at each other. "Why don't we get warmed up while we wait for the others to get their asses moving?" Minerva suggested.

"Sure!" her companion agreed, leaving to rummage through a gym bag stuffed under a metal bench. She withdrew a fluorescent, eye-searing pink volleyball from its depths. "Is it alright if we use mine?"

"Yeah, that's fine. I forgot to bring one today."

With that, the pair faced off and began to leisurely hit the garish ball back and forth between them, to the continued befuddlement of the two men observing them.

Sting and Rogue's contemplation on the unfathomable mystery of the unnecessarily complicated friendship dynamics of women was interrupted by the sound of banging coming from behind the automatically locking door behind them.

The one that led to the creepy corridor and abyssal realm.

Sharing a terrified glance, neither of the roommates moved to open the locked door. They'd seen enough horror movies to know better.

"EUCLIFFE!" came an angry shout behind the wooden barricade. "OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!"

With a squeak of surprise and horrified recognition, Sting rushed off towards a man sitting on a folding chair near the double doors that led to the rest of the building. The scarred man glanced up as Sting barreled to a stop in front of him. Carefully, he set his book down so as to not lose his place. "Did you need something, Sting?"

"Key!" Sting panted, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the storage room's door. More banging emanated from within. "I locked Professor Geer in there!"

Startled, the man handed over the small metal object without further comment.

"Thanks, Mest!" Sting yelled, scurrying off.

"For the last time, my name is Doranbolt!" the dark haired man shouted. When Sting failed to acknowledge the statement, he merely rolled his eyes and resumed his reading.

Sting swiftly shoved the key into its lock and fumbled with the handle. Once he had it turned, he flung it open.

Standing in the doorway was a professor that Rogue had only had one class with before, but remembered well. Brutal though the workload had been for that class, Rogue had learned a lot from the literature professor. It was... strange, however. Seeing the serious taskmaster in a dark grey shirt and black basketball shorts was a far cry from the ubiquitous sweater-vest with a jacket and slacks he seemed to permanently dwell in even when spotted off campus. His long, black hair was even tied back in a high ponytail.

He had never seen the normally calm professor quite so _livid_ before, either. But Rogue couldn't exactly blame him - he had absolutely no desire to be locked within that dark and creepy place either.

The older man stared balefully at Sting, who was withering under the professor's steely gaze.

"Eucliffe," the teacher spat, emerging from the shadowed stairwell. "Is this some sort of petty revenge for that essay score from Monday? Because this is not the way to endear yourself to the person _who dictates your grades._"

"I'm sorry!" Sting cowered, backing away from the other male. "I swear I didn't mean to!"

Mard spotted Rogue, turning to fix him with a blank stare. "Ah, Mr. Cheney. One of my more intelligent students this year. Pity you're a sciences' major; Tempesta and Kyouka have told me good things, however."

Surprised at the sudden praise, Rogue barely managed a, "Thank you, sir." His teachers talked about him?

"What about me?" Sting interjected, excited.

A lazy, cruel smirk slowly spread across the professor's face. "I do suppose it takes a _special_ sort of... _genius_ to turn in a shopping list stained with _pizza grease_ instead of a paper on the Iliad's much lauded Trojan Horse."

The blond flushed in embarrassment. "Yeah, okay. Not my finest moment."

Rogue thought he might recall this incident, actually. Sting had accidentally grabbed the wrong set of papers and turned them in as his assignment without realizing it (in Sting's defense, the true homework had been covered in the exact same pizza stains and the shopping list was a several page long document and almost an essay in its own right). A couple of days afterward, Sting had whined incessantly about his professor actually _grading_ the shopping list in terms of which items were unhealthy and how to budget his finances properly (the paper had even had the following phrase written upon it in red ink, "Regardless of whether I grade this as a shopping list or as your actual assignment you STILL FAIL").

"Also..." Mard's countenance took a turn for the worse. "You locked. Me. Down there. In the dark."

"I said I was sorry! I didn't do it on purpose! I didn't even realize you were down there!"

Rogue glanced at the restricted, dark space from which Mard Geer had emerged. "How did you not see him?" Rogue wondered aloud. "It's not like you could _miss_ him..." Come to think of it, Rogue hadn't seen him either. Which only made all the bad thriller flick tropes all the more prominent in his mind.

"I was around the corner, chasing a ball," the professor explained, indeed holding said object.

Wisely, Rogue refrained from questioning why Mard had decided to do that _in the dark... _with_ no light... _in the_ exceedingly creepy sub-basement_.

"Still, you shouldn't have shut the door. You've been coming here long enough to know it locks automatically and people need to get things out of the room."

"Speaking of which, I should probably return the key..." Sting muttered, wandering away.

The two dark haired men stared after the blond as he attempted to rouse Mest - Doranbolt? - from his dispassionate disinterest long enough to take the object back. Mard's eye twitched dangerously. "Did he just... ignore me?"

Rubbing his temple, Rogue apologized, "I'm sorry about him, sir."

With a sigh, Mard waved away Rogue's concern. "I'll see him in class tomorrow..." he muttered, walking to the other side of the gym, rejoining his team.

A moment later, Rogue observed a very intoxicated Cana Alberona stumble into and subsequently drape herself on the teacher for support, cooing all the while at him. Judging by his subsequent flailing and attempts to pry the drunk woman off him, Mard clearly wasn't enjoying the proximity. "Get off of me, Ms. Alberona!"

Sting returned to watch the professor's losing battle with the brunette woman. "Fairy Tail Team B is playing against Tartaros tonight, huh?" When Rogue stared at him, he asked, "What?"

"Tartaros? Fairy Tail... B?"

"Oh... yeah, Professor Geer's team is Tartaros. Uh... lemme think who's on it... Professors Tempesta, Geer, Kyouka, and Sayla... along with the T.A.'s Jackal and Lamy. Fairy Tail Team A is the one Blondie belongs to." Sting gestured vaguely in his fellow blonde's direction. "But they have an upper league team, too. They just call it Team B. Erm..." Holding up a hand, Sting started to count the members as he thought. "They've got Cana Alberona, Laxus Dreyar, Juvia Lockser, Mirajane Strauss, and Gajeel Redfox for their main players, but they have a bunch of others on their roster and kind of just rotate them around every week."

Cana Alberona complained enthusiastically on the other court as a mountainous blond man took pity on Professor Geer and peeled his teammate off of him.

"The teachers," Rogue said, "named their team... Tartaros."

Sting raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? What are you getting at?"

"The people with the power to kill our grades named their team after the Greek underworld."

The blond opened his mouth to reply, but then paused in thought. He shut his jaw, looking pensive. "That's... I mean... What?"

"My thoughts exactly."

Silence fell between the pair.

"By the way," Rogue spoke up, "why do the professors have a team, anyway? I thought only students were allowed to participate in these kinds of things."

Sting shrugged. "The league is separate from the school, although almost all the players are from it. This gym gets rented for these games, and we all have to pay a seasonal fee when we register our teams. Doranbolt keeps an eye on us to make sure we don't burn down the place or kill each other - he's actually a part of campus security. Which is why he has the keys."

"I see. Makes sense."

Jellal chose that moment to wander past the befuddled bystanders with the other metal pole on his shoulder. "Hey, Sting. Rogue! I didn't realize that you play volleyball. Come to join in this time?"

The brunet shook his head. "No, Sting wrangled me into playing scorekeeper."

Smiling, the bluenette shook his head in mild exasperation. "About time we got someone to help out with that. We really can't seem to do it on our own. So thanks, Rogue. We really appreciate your assistance."

"Oh." Rogue shifted uncomfortably. "No problem. Really... It's no big deal."

"No, no!" Jellal protested, holding up his free hand. "We... we're really quite hopeless when it comes to keeping score. And I think Cobra adds on points..."

"I said," Sting mumbled under his breath. "I fuckin' said."

Glancing away, Jellal sighed heavily. "Speaking of... Cobra!" He walked off, forcing Rogue and Sting to again perform evasive maneuvers to avoid being clocked by the metal pole. "Wrong side! That pole goes in the other slot!"

"Are you kidding me?!" the redhead yelled, lifting the object from the hole in the gym floor. With a grumble, he hefted it and went to the other side to fit it in its correct place this time.

Rogue, upon regaining his feet, pointed at the poles. "I'm curious as to how they managed to get those out of that narrow storage area."

"Oh, they didn't," Sting informed him. Scratching the back of his neck with one hand, he pointed towards a set of doors a little distance away, near where Doranbolt was ignoring the world. "There's another storage area."

Staring, Rogue visually inspected the brightly lit opening, full of space and many different types of sports equipment. "Couldn't the nets be kept in there...?" he wondered aloud.

For a moment, his blond friend stared at Rogue. "I never thought about that," he admitted, sheepish. "But uh... maybe it's because all the nets are in the other room? Or... maybe there isn't enough space in this storage area...?"

Rogue swept his arm out, indicating the vast openness actually available for use in the non-creepy storage room.

Sting threw his arms up in defeat. "I don't know! The gym managers are the ones who get to decide where shit goes!"

"So who's the manager?"

The college sophomore paused. "Um. I guess that would be the program director? Geoff? I think it's Geoff."

"...Geoff."

"Right. Geoff Jeff D'Gioeff. Born on the first of Geoff, Nineteen-Jeff-D'Gioeff."

Was that really the guy's name or was Sting just... making it up? "...Am I supposed to know who that is."

Shrugging, Sting replied, "I dunno. I've never actually met the guy. I went to the Team Captain meetings, which he's supposed to be in charge of, but he never showed. Mest ran the thing instead."

"MY NAME IS DORANBOLT!"

For a man that had mastered the semblance of disinterest to the degree that this individual had, it seemed that Doranbolt was, in fact, paying at least _some_ attention. Enough to recognize that his name wasn't be correctly said.

"Hey, Dory..."

"DORANBOLT, STING. IT'S NOT THAT HARD TO REMEMBER."

Again, the blond shrugged. "What's Geoff like?"

The man stared at Sting strangely. "How the hell would I know? I've never met him."

"Wh... Huh?" It Sting a moment to process that statement. "But you give us updates from him all the time."

Doranbolt shrugged at him. "I get emails from him, but I've never spoken to or seen the guy myself."

Cold chills seeped into Rogue's spine as he and Sting stared at Doranbolt.

Was Geoff a mythical creature?

Did Geoff even exist?

WHO THE FUCK WAS RUNNING THIS THING?!

A sudden shriek from behind Rogue caught his attention. _**"HEADS!"**_

Heads? What was that supposed to me-

And then everything went dark.

* * *

**I feel like I need to separate fact and fiction at the end of these.**

**First off - Geoff. He's a real person. ...I think. He's based off of Jeff who runs the volleyball program I am a part of. Just like Sting, I have never met this man. I have been a part of this thing for five years, and been to three Team Captain meetings on behalf of my Captain.**

**I have still never met him, and I really am beginning to wonder if he actually does exist.**

**The name Geoff Jeff D'Gioff is a joke from Eddie Izzard, a rather brilliant comedian.**

**The abyssal hole. Yes, it's real. Yes, I have accidentally locked someone in there before. Multiple times to different people. Yes, it's right next to the brightly lit storage area that could totally hold all the supplies but for some unfathomable reason they aren't stored there.**

**Assume all physical gym details are accurate unless I say otherwise.**

**The test Sting turned in WAS fictional.**

**Doranbolt is taking the place of the actual supervisor at my gym. A particularly disinterested individual named Chet. (WE LOVE YOU CHET.)**

**League details are all true to form, as well. Except for the tiny bits I had to repurpose to work in a college setting.**

**That is all. Carry on.**


	4. Chapter 4

**And here is the next chapter! I can't believe it took me so long to get this written. Sorry, everyone! Hopefully I'll be able to get the next one out more swiftly. I'm so happy at all of the support for this fic!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail.**

* * *

When Rogue opened his eyes, it was to the sight of Doranbolt scowling in his face and a blonde woman fussing mightily beside the gym supervisor. Rogue blinked a couple of times to clear his bleary vision, and then groaned as his head started pounding.

"You really did a number on him, Lucy," Doranbolt muttered, peering at the younger man intently.

"I'm so sorry!" the distraught blonde gushed, Rogue now recognizing her as the team member Sting was currently borrowing from Natsu. "I really, truly am! I didn't think I'd hit the ball that hard! It... it kind of just... went in a direction I was _not_ expecting it to."

Rolling his eyes, Doranbolt held up three fingers in front of Rogue's face. "How many?" he asked.

"Three," Rogue muttered in reply.

"Wonderful." The supervisor turned to Lucy and sighed. "You know, Lucy... we frown upon decapitation here. Especially so early in the season."

The blonde woman hung her head. "Yeah, I know," she agreed.

So this was a common occurrence, then?

Being the scorekeeper for Sting was beginning to look more and more like a dangerous, potentially fatal proposition.

"You're going to have a black eye," Doranbolt casually informed Rogue. "Other than that, you should be fine. I leave him to you, Lucy." With that, Doranbolt stood up from his crouch beside Rogue and wandered out of Rogue's field of vision - presumably returning to his chair to once again resume his inattentive vigilance.

Lucy flushed in embarrassment as she looked down at Rogue. "I really am sorry," she said, extending a hand to him. "Want some help?"

"Thanks," Rogue said, taking the offered limb. The world spun slightly as Lucy pulled him first into a sitting position, and then helped him to his feet.

With a nervous smile, she gestured to the two metal benches set up on the side of the court. "Why don't you sit down for a minute? Sting ran off to get you some ice a little bit ago."

Rogue nodded, allowing himself to be steered to the resting area. Sitting down heavily, he rubbed his throbbing temple. "Does this happen often?" he wondered aloud.

Wincing, Lucy took a seat beside him. "Kind of? I think you're the first person to be knocked unconscious, though." She giggled a little. "I mean, we've broken glasses, noses, there was one broken wrist last year, a few sprains, and a pulled muscle or two, but that was the worst of the injuries we've ever had."

"So no actual decapitations, then?" Rogue chuckled, not entirely joking.

"No," Lucy agreed. "That's... that's more of a running joke. You'll see why shortly, I expect."

That was not quite as promising.

Lucy cleared her throat, somewhat awkwardly. "Um... Sting tells me you're new to volleyball?"

Sighing, Rogue confirmed, "Something like that, yeah. He asked me to be the scorekeeper for tonight."

A look of pity flashed through Lucy's sepia eyes, and then vanished as swiftly as it had appeared. Instead, a slight smile graced her features - which was almost enough to make Rogue forget the pity he'd just witnessed.

Almost.

"Are you familiar with the rules at all?" the blonde asked.

Rogue shook his head mutely. "Sting attempted an explanation but..."

Lucy passed a hand over her face. "Yeah, he's not so great at those in class, either." At Rogue's questioning glance, she clarified, "I attend Professor Geer's Classical Literature class along with Sting. Professor Geer despises him, though. Which Sting reciprocates wholeheartedly. So the class is never boring..."

"I'm sure Sting completely deserves the animosity," Rogue stated firmly.

"Oh, come on!" Sting complained, walking up towards the pair and holding out an ice pack for his best friend. "You've known me practically our whole lives, Rogue! How could you betray me like this?!"

Snatching the pack away from Sting before the blond man decided to play a game of keep away with the object, Rogue placed it against his injured eye. "I can say that _because_ I know you so well."

Sting grumbled for a moment under his breath. Then he faced Lucy with hope shining in his cerulean orbs. "Blondie!" he implored. "You know! Please enlighten my friend, here!"

Biting her lip, Lucy struggled not to laugh. "You do kind of deserve it, Sting," she stated bluntly. "After all... on the second day of class you _did_ try to exorcise him with a spray bottle. Full of holy water."

"That man is a fucking demon, mark my words!" Sting asserted. "And the fact that ya'll haven't figured that out yet is just _sad._"

Mouth agape, Rogue shook his head at his friend. "How did I not hear about this?"

Shrugging Sting replied, "Because I'm still trying to prove it!"

"...Not what I meant."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Professor Geer just stood there, drenched and in shock. It was rather pitiful. And that was by no means Sting's _only_ attempt to exorcise him. Seriously, Sting - just because he assigned homework on the first day does not make him a monster, or a demon. It makes him a good educator. Which, I remind you, is his job. And yet you bring a wooden stake to class and a garlic necklace."

Rogue did remember Sting leaving the dorm room like that at the beginning of the semester. He'd wondered at what Sting was up to, but by that point had known better than to ask. After all, he ran the real risk of Sting explaining. Which often led to places Rogue did not wish to go.

"And, I remind you," Lucy continued, "that anyone would die after having a stake plunged through their heart. _Anyone_. The garlic was a bit overkill, too. _Everyone's_ eyes were watering! Especially after you decided it wasn't working and it felt the need to peel all of it! In class!"

Later that day, Sting _had_ returned to the dorm smelling rather rancid, as Rogue recalled. The brunet was beginning to understand that the depths of Mard Geer's hatred for Sting ran very, very deep indeed. With good cause. How in the world had the professor not kicked Sting out, yet?

Sting threw up his hands in exasperation. "Not my fault that you heathens can't figure out what he is when all the evidence is laid out before you!"

"What evidence?" Rogue had yet to see any.

"All the evidence! Whatever man, I'm going to go warm up." Sting pivoted and stalked away, muttering incoherently under his breath.

Groaning, Rogue rolled his eyes. "I apologize for him," he said, removing the ice pack. With a wince, he placed it against his eye again.

Lucy sucked in a breath through her teeth. "Dammit, that looks like it hurts. Again, I'm very sorry!"

"It's fine," Rogue reassured her. He held out his free hand to her. "I'm Rogue Cheney, by the way."

Taking his hand, the blonde woman smiled at him. "I'm Lucy Heartfilia. I don't know if you've heard, but I'm actually on Natsu's team. Sting is borrowing me for a few games this season, though."

Rogue nodded. "I heard." Dropping her hand he gestured at the now fully set-up net. "What are those red things around the poles?"

"Oh! Those are cushions to keep anyone from getting hurt if they run into the poles. The winches for the net can cause some serious damage," Lucy explained. After a moment, she offered, "If there's anything else you would like to know, I would be happy to tell you...?"

"Sure, that'd be great," Rogue said. Pausing for a second, he then clarified, "Actually, I don't even know what to ask you about. What am I supposed to know to be scorekeeper for this?"

Eyes widening, Lucy let out a great gust of air. "Whew! Okay, then. Um... let's start with the court. You see all the lines?"

Indeed, Rogue had. How anyone was supposed to tell the boundary for anything from them was a mystery. There were thick, six-inch wide black lines all around the gym; several squares done in white; many different rectangles done in yellow; larger rectangles done in green; and concentric circles in blue. Not to mention some indeterminate polygons in crimson. All of these were superimposed upon each other until it became near impossible to determine which sport they were meant for. With the sole exception of some thin black lines, arranged in a sort of semi-circle that denoted a function in basketball.

"Yes," Rogue replied. "I see all of the lines. All forty thousand of them."

Lucy laughed nervously, and rubbed the back of her neck in a way that reminded Rogue keenly of Natsu. "Yeah... there's a lot," she admitted. "We're using the yellow ones to define the court. You see that thin black line under the net, and between the two courts? Players can't step on those. Those are automatically out of bounds, but the players can go beyond the yellow ones to hit the ball. If one team hits the ball to the other side, however, without that team touching it and it falls outside the yellow, then it is out of bounds and the receiving team gets a point."

Rogue blinked, mildly confused. There were just so many lines... also, the green ones were placed very close to the yellow. It might be hard to determine when a ball was out, if the object was hurtling at the speed the one that had taken him out was. But the black lines he thought he could manage. "Okay. Yellow and black, got it."

"Um... don't worry about it too much. This is your first game," Lucy consoled him, sensing Rogue's bewilderment. "Just... here. This is the roster and scorecard - every player needs to sign it. Apparently Geoff needs it to keep track of... actually I have no idea why he wants everyone to sign it."

"Have you... met... him?" Rogue asked, hopeful.

"...No, I haven't, come to think of it." Furrowing her brow in thought, Lucy muttered, "Huh."

Apparently that was too much for Rogue to ask for.

Shaking her head to clear it, Lucy pointed at the clipboard she had handed to Rogue. "Just write an X over the boxes to keep score. It's three matches to a game."

So _that's_ what it was. Good to know.

"Twenty-five points to a match. Unless a ball from the other side - or a player - flies into our court, every serve ends in a point scored. We do redoes whenever there's interference, or we can't agree who lost the point. I think that's pretty much it for tonight."

Rogue pointed to the yellow lines. "What about that one in the center of each side?"

"Complicated," was Lucy's immediate response. "But basically we can't jump over it. We can cross it, but both feet need to be on the ground when we hit the ball or we're offsides." She paused for a moment. "You don't need to worry about it, much. Any other questions?"

Thinking about it for a moment, Rogue nodded. "Just one more." Then he indicated the ceiling. "What is that stuff?"

Glancing up, Lucy contemplated the beige substance coating the gym's ceiling. "Insulation of some sort? The guys like to joke that it's asbestos, but that can't possibly be it. ...Right?"

Rogue certainly hoped not.

"Hey, Blondie!" Sting shouted. "We're about to start now!"

"Coming!" Lucy called back. She turned to Rogue. "It was nice to meet you, Rogue!"

"Likewise, Lucy," Rogue replied, smiling slightly.

As Lucy rejoined her team, Cobra laughed from the other side of the court. "Are you sure you can keep score like that, Rogue?!"

Lucy immediately quipped, "If you can play with only one eye, I don't see why he can't keep score with only one!"

This was definitely going to be... interesting, Rogue decided.

Provided he survived, that is.

* * *

**Let the game - er - match, begin!**

**In the next chapter, that is.**

**I'll try to get it out later this week, I promise! Love you guys!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I am sincerely sorry for how late this update is. The action scenes fought me, as I'm not actually sure how to describe the action from an outside view, since I'm usually in the thick of it. At any rate, many more funny things have happened to me in volleyball so I have plenty of material for this fic.**

**Gentle reminder... I am not actually planning to make this super shippy. I kind of just want to let the chips fall where they may. But if I get pestered enough about it, I must warn you... I _will_ make pairings canon but you will _not_ like which pairings I end up doing (because I'm stubborn).**

* * *

Rogue watched as the teams began to get into position. He was rather surprised that he recognized nearly everyone on both teams. On Sting's team was - of course - the blond wonder himself, Lucy, Minerva, Rufus Lore, Orga Nanagear (who towered over everyone else... and the net), and finally Yukino Aguria. The silver haired woman smiled upon seeing him, giving him a short wave. Returning it, Rogue suddenly felt a baleful stare directed towards him, originating from the other team's side.

Glancing over there, Rogue paled upon meeting Sorano Aguria's hate-filled stare. Right. She was Yukino's sister, wasn't she? He'd met the volatile woman on a number of occasions, as he and Yukino were seatmates in calculus and had become fast friends. Sorano, much like Yukino did at first glance, came off as aloof. In reality, however, she was pure viciousness wrapped up in a veneer of false politeness. Her tongue sharper than any knife in the cooking department, Sorano was capable of verbally cutting someone down, with an innocent, delicate smile. It was a facade she seemed to drop only when around Cobra, the man deeply enjoying the act of pissing her off.

Speaking of, said scarred, acerbic man was exchanging barbs again with Lucy - this time with the net separating them (though it seemed a flimsy barricade at best). This really did seem to be a common occurrence, if the way everyone else was ignoring them was any indication. Either that, or they were so far beyond caring that it barely registered. Given that they were all college students, this was entirely possible.

Also on Cobra and Sorano's side was a man that looked asleep on his feet - whom Rogue knew tangentially as Macbeth, as the narcoleptic was Sting's seatmate in one of his physics classes and often worked with Sting on projects.

Jellal and Sting weren't paying attention to their teams as they appeared to be playing... rock, paper, scissors? The game didn't appear to be going anywhere with both throwing the same signs every time.

The final two members of Crime Sorciere were both women, but Rogue did not recognize either of them. The dark haired, taller of the two caught him looking, and gave him a firm nod of acknowledgment. Her pink haired companion gave him a bright smile and an enthusiastic wave.

Lifting his hand in greeting towards the pinkette, Rogue returned the brunette's nod.

"Aw, yes! I win!" Sting declared. "We get first serve!"

"Finally!" Orga grumbled. "You took _forever_."

"Hey, quit whining!"

Cobra broke away from his playful argument with Lucy, stepping back from the net a bit. "You should have let me do it, Jellal," he commented. "Sting's easy to beat."

"How so?!" the blond man demanded, swiping the ball the blue haired man was offering to him. Aside, he informed Jellal, "Yeah, let's go with yours. Much better than ours. Ours is like hitting a rock. A fluorescent pink rock. I mean... it took out Rogue. Rock-eted right into his face!"

Jellal nodded, accepting this logic, and steadfastly refusing to acknowledge the pun.

Glancing over at Cobra, Sting asked, "Now how am I - quote, unquote - easy to beat?"

"You have a tell," Cobra continued, once he had Sting's attention once more.

"How the hell do you have a tell in rock, paper, scissors?!"

"_I_ don't. _You_ do. And why would I tell you? I'd lose my advantage."

Rogue was beginning to think that his initial opinion of Cobra as an unrelenting asshole and an absolute bastard was exactly the truth. The man seemed to like to egging people on. And Sting was far too easy of a target.

"Whatever!" Sting grouched, making his way to the back of the court. Both teams shuffled a bit, readjusting their positions. "Ready?" Sting called out.

"Yeah!" came the chorused response.

Then Sting bounced the ball twice on the ground. "Zeroes!" he yelled, throwing the object into the air. Drawing back his arm, he suddenly snapped it forward and hit it faster than Rogue's eye could follow.

The ball shot through the air - only to veer off course and hit the side of the basketball backboard right above Rogue's head and rocket straight back at Sting.

"IEEEYAAAHH!" Sting screeched, twisting to avoid being taken out by his own failed serve in a display of reflexes that Rogue found impressive. And not just because he hadn't been able to perform the same when he was hit by the other volleyball earlier.

Laughter erupted all around, both teams finding Sting's evident distress very amusing indeed. Though none were laughing quite as hard as Cobra was. "What the fuck was _that_, Eucliffe?! That was horrible!"

Sting bent down to grab the ball as it rolled by, and then he straightened. To Rogue's surprise, Sting began to laugh along with everyone else. "Yeah, that was pretty bad!" He gave the ball a heave, sending it soaring over the net. "Your point!"

Sensing that was his cue, Rogue made an _**X**_ on the appropriate box on the score sheet.

Now that Rogue looked at the score sheet properly, he saw that Sting's team was called, 'Team Sabertooth.' Where the hell had Sting gotten that name from, anyway?

Snatching the ball out of the air, the dark haired woman took a couple of steps backward, and then threw the ball into the air. "One-O!" She whipped her arm in the same sort of movement that Sting had before. This time, however, it hurtled in the direction of the net. Barely clearing the top, the ball shot into the ground, not a single member of Sting's team moving to hit it.

"Ace!" the pink haired woman cheered, high-fiving her friend, who was wearing a smug smile. "Great job, Ultear! Keep them coming!"

Rogue had a bad feeling about where this game was headed.

Sure enough, the woman managed to score four more points on Sting's team in rapid succession. Sting and Rufus were sporting glaring red marks on their arms already, proof of the force behind the blows.

"Okay, that was the last one!" Sting announced, and the rest all nodded. Honestly, Rogue couldn't see how that declaration was supposed to make a difference, but he was all for a change of pace compared to the mind numbing task of just steadily increasing Crime Sorciere's checked boxes.

He really should not have made that wish.

* * *

**Ultear is a power server and you cannot convince me otherwise.**


End file.
